One doesn’t want to lose a grain. That he’s come here at all shows he’ll stop at nothing. “Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs.
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